Can't Keep You
by reader304
Summary: After Ward's capture, Skye finds out she's pregnant. She's not about to wait around for the father to be redeemed. So how does she deal with it?
1. Simmons

**Disclaimer: If you couldn't tell by the name of the website, this is a work of fan fiction. I do not own any characters depicted.**

**Trigger warnings: abortion.**

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><p>Skye could feel her heart rate rising as she knocked on the door to Simmons' bunk. When her friend answered, she slipped inside as quickly as she could and blurted out, "Jemma, I need your help." <em>Like ripping off a band-aid<em>, she noted as she felt her heart slow.

Jemma looked tired. She'd looked tired since they got to the Playground. Even now that Fitz was awake she was wearing herself out spending every spare moment researching ways to help him recover. But she always rallied when there was work to be done, and she did the same now. "Of course, Skye, what's wrong?"

_Uh-oh. Bigger band-aid underneath the first._ "Um . . . how are you doing? Did you get any sleep last night?"

Jemma shrugged. "Enough, I guess. My dreams haven't been exactly pleasant recently. Turns out surviving attempted murder can be traumatic." She smiled, but tensely.

Skye sighed. "I know the feeling. I keep dreaming about Mike Peterson jumping on the hood of my car and getting handcuffed to the stairs in the BUS."

"I think a lot of the agents here are having trouble processing the collapse. We could start an insomnia support group," Jemma said with a nervous laugh. "Is that what you need help with? Sleeping pills?"

"No, no, it's not that. It's . . . uh . . . well, remember how I told you I found out Ward was Hydra because I found Eric's body while we were the only two people at Providence?" Jemma nodded, and Skye continued. "Well, there's something I didn't want to share with the class. Before I went looking for Eric, Ward and I were having a drink, and he was opening up to me about his family, and, uh, one thing led to another and we . . . hooked up."

Jemma's face went through confusion, surprise, and disgust before the realization hit. "Oh God, Skye, are you telling me what I think you're trying to tell me?"

Skye hesitated, but it was too late to deny it. "I think I'm pregnant," she said quietly. Jemma had never heard her sound so _small_. "I mean I'm not absolutely sure, it could just be stress and travel throwing my body off, I haven't been puking up my breakfast or anything though I have been craving cherries all week and I don't even like cherries that much—"

"Skye, stop babbling," Jemma ordered, taking her friend by the shoulders. _Ok, we can deal with this. It's a science experiment. Question: is Skye pregnant? Proceed to information gathering._ She grabbed her phone off the bedside table—it was a clunky international burner but it still had a calendar function. "Let's approach this logically. What day did all this happen?"

"It was just three days after Hydra's big coming-out party. So . . . April 6th, maybe?"

It was May 27th, that made it . . . "Almost seven weeks ago? Do you remember the last time you had a period?"

"Not exactly. I have no idea what I did with the calendar I had with me on the BUS. But I remember what mission we were on when I had it, so I pulled up the reports and it looks like it was the week of March 23."

_Information gathered. Hypothesis: Skye is pregnant. Now we experiment._ She glanced at the clock; it was almost midnight. "There shouldn't be anyone in the lab right now. We've got every chemical under the sun down there. Come on, I can draw a blood sample and fix up an hCG test for you." After peeking to make sure no one was in the corridor, the two young women quietly slipped out the door.


	2. Skye

Jemma sent Skye back to her bunk while she worked on the results. "I think we'd both be more comfortable discussing the results in private, don't you?" _Comfortable doesn't enter into it,_ both women thought, but neither one voiced the concern. Skye just left the lab while Jemma stayed. It was actually easier than she thought it would be. Some forward-thinking quartermaster had actually stocked the Playground with a few test kits. _Fury really does think of everything, I guess._

It wasn't long before Jemma found herself standing outside her own bunk, nervously fumbling for her key card. Entering the room, she saw that Skye had fallen asleep on the bed. _She looks as exhausted as I feel. I could let her sleep, should I? No, she deserves to hear this._ She laid a hand on her friend's shoulder, and Skye's eyes opened.

"What did it say?" she immediately asked, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed.

Lowering her voice almost to a whisper—she did have neighbors, after all—Jemma said, "Positive."

Tears were the first reaction. _Sometimes, mothers are happy to hear these things_, Jemma thought helplessly—uselessly, really. She passed Skye the box of tissues and sat next to her on the bed, putting an arm around her shoulders protectively. _Clearly this isn't happy news by any stretch of the imagination_.

It took Skye almost ten minutes to collect herself. She leaned against Jemma for support, blowing her nose loudly. She whispered, "Sorry, I just . . . I sort of knew already but I guess it's different to have it confirmed."

Jemma took a deep breath. _I should've taken more psychology classes when I had the chance. Is there such a thing as a class about how to have difficult conversations?_ "Listen, I know you've probably already guessed this, but you need to make some decisions. As soon as possible. If you're keeping the—uh—it, we need to get you off field duty and start focusing on your health."

"Keeping it?" Skye sat up and looked at Jemma. "How on earth could I do that? I'm training to be a field agent. We have less than ten of those available. If I take nine months off I'll be seriously compromising S.H.I.E.L.D. And what would I do afterwards? Go on missions with a kid strapped to my back? This place doesn't exactly have on-site daycare."

Jemma gathered her nerve and pressed on. "We could talk to Coulson, maybe figure something out—"

"Sure, maybe I could quit S.H.I.E.L.D. and go back to living in my van. Convert the passenger seat into a nursery! Or better yet," Skye scoffed, "go down to Vault D and tell our prisoner he's going to be a father! Get him to take care of my baby while I'm off fighting his friends. 'Don't worry honey, the only monster under your bed is your daddy, and he's securely locked in!' No way, Jemma, I can't keep this."

"It's not all or nothing, Skye. Doesn't California have some kind of law saying you can anonymously put your kid up for adoption?"

"I got dropped off at an orphanage anonymously. I refuse to put another kid through that."

"I see your point," Jemma said slowly. _It's not the choice I'd make. I don't think. Maybe if it were Ward's baby I'd be tempted._ She shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Ward._ But this isn't my time to choose. So focus on the logistics. _"If you want to terminate the pregnancy, we're going to need help. It's harder to get that done in Mexico than it is in the US. We'll have to do some research on the closest places . . . and you'll need some time off, plus permission to travel, which means," (she took a deep breath), "One of us is going to have to tell May about this."

Skye swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'll do it, Jemma. This is my screwup. Thanks for the help, but you should go to bed."

"You have to go to bed too," Jemma said firmly, "Doctor's orders. Tell May tomorrow. You've got five whole weeks to arrange this."

_Five weeks. Because there's a baby growing inside me and it'll get too human-like to legally kill. No way am I sleeping tonight,_ Skye thought. But she said, "You're right. We should both get some rest."


	3. May

Skye met May for their usual morning workout. May saw that she wasn't wearing her sweats and knew something was wrong before the younger woman even opened her mouth.

"Morning, May. Um . . . how'd you sleep?" Skye said awkwardly.

May started unwrapping her hands, since the workout was apparently canceled. "What's wrong, Skye?"

"Nothing, I . . ." A glance at her SO's face showed that misdirection was a lost cause. "Fine. I'm pregnant."

To say that May was surprised was probably an understatement. But she absorbed the news the way she'd absorbed every bit of shocking information in her adult life: by refusing to show how shocked she was. It wasn't always an easy strategy but it usually bought her some time to think, while the bearer of shocking news waited for it to sink in.

After about thirty seconds, she managed an answer: "When did that happen?"

"About seven weeks ago, I guess." Skye watched May for any sign of emotion, reaction, or realization. She didn't see any. _She really has this ice queen act down to an art._

Realization had struck May, though. _It happened when we were at Providence. Two guesses who the father was. But I only need one._ "It was Ward?"

Skye wasn't as good at hiding her surprise. "What—how did you guess that?"

May gave a slightly amused smile to defuse the tension. "When I left Providence it was just you, Ward, and Eric Koening. Strangers aren't really your style and Ward clearly had a crush on you, so, it's not a big leap."

_You knew he had a crush on me while he was sleeping with you. Just when I thought this situation couldn't get more awkward . . . _"Anyway," Skye soldiered on, trying to sound casual, "I need your permission to take a few days off, go back to California, get this taken care of."

May had to think about that for a moment. It wasn't just a matter of time, it was logistics. "California is a bit of a long drive. Any chance you could have this done closer to home?"

Skye fiddled with the hem of her shirt nervously. "I looked up the local regulations. Apparently this particular area only allows it in cases of rape, and claiming to be a rape victim would lead to a whole bunch of questions I might not want to answer. An American woman filing a report like that might get tongues wagging and well, you know, we live in a top secret base full of wanted terrorists and all . . ."

"Oh." May had to admit she had a point. _If only "seduction under false pretenses" was legally rape. Of course we'd have to lock up half the men on this earth if it were._ "Well let's figure out what it will take to make this happen. It's a five hour drive to San Diego, so you probably need to devote two full days for round-trip travel. Does California have any waiting periods or anything?"

"Fortunately, no. It's an open-minded state."

"So two days for travel, one for a procedure, figure at least one to recover enough for the return trip. That's four days, three nights in a hotel. You'll need cash, and a car."

"My van still works. I have my pay saved up. I've done my research." Skye resisted the urge to roll her eyes at all this thinking out loud. _Does she not think I've thought this through already?_

"You've already got all the fake IDs you could want, so there's just one more thing," May said, "You won't be able to drive yourself back, after."

Skye looked up quickly. "I won't?"

_Guess there were holes in that research after all_. May shifted into a softer stance and tried for a more understanding tone. "You've never had this done before, I take it." Skye shook her head. "Well, even after a procedure with no complications you can expect cramping, bleeding, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea. Trust me, you're going to need someone to drive you home."

May tried to read the look on Skye's face. Worry? Fear? Sadness? All of the above?

"Wait, have you done this before?" Skye asked, surprise in her voice.

Skye didn't miss the way May looked away for a minute before she answered. "Not personally. But my roommate at the academy junior year did. Regulations were different then, if you didn't marry the father or terminate, then you had to drop out of S.H.I.E.L.D. I ended up nursing her back to health over a long weekend."

_Not the time to get pushy with questions, Skye, you're asking for a favor_, she reminded herself. "Right. Well, painful or not, I need this. So do I have your permission to take four days off or not?"

May pushed aside memories of the past and focused on formulating a plan. "You have my permission. And furthermore, I'm going to go with you and make sure you get home all right. But two agents leaving and traveling internationally for a personal errand means we need Coulson to sign off on it."

_Fuck._ "Is there any chance that Coulson is going to approve of this?" _Dammit. As if this wasn't embarrassing enough without having to tell him I slept with a serial killer, against regulations, and got knocked up like an idiot._

"None whatsoever. He's more pro-life than you might expect." May saw Skye's face fall and quickly added, "But, I'll get him to grant permission anyway. Under the circumstances I think he'd agree that a baby would be a bad idea."

Skye couldn't help being relieved that she didn't have to be the one to explain this to Coulson. _He's going to be so disappointed in me. And even angrier at Ward than he already is, if that's possible._ Her eyes filled with tears—at which thought, she couldn't say. "Thanks," she squeaked as she scurried away.


	4. Coulson

Melinda May was the only person in the world who didn't have to knock before entering Phil Coulson's office. She waited until after his first appointment of the day to walk in, though, hoping to find him alone.

"Good morning," he said brightly when he saw her. "I didn't expect to see you this early in the day. What's up?"

"There's a small personnel situation I need your permission to resolve," she said as she took the chair across from him.

"All right," Phil answered distractedly, looking at the looming pile of paperwork in front of him. "But I trust you won't mind if I sign a few reports while you fill me in?" May nodded. "Ok, shoot," he said as he reached for the folder on the top of the pile.

"Skye has a small medical issue. I need your permission to give her a few days off, and to take her back to California to see a doctor." _There's no chance he's not going to ask more questions. Still, best to break these things gently._

Phil looked up from a quartermaster's report, brow furrowed. "Is she all right? What kind of medical issue?"

May kept up her best poker face while she answered, "Female trouble."

Unfortunately, Phil had played poker against her before. "Female trouble," he said evenly. "Do you mean the kind of female trouble that can be resolved with painkillers, the kind that requires surgery, or the kind that's likely to result in a whole lot of sleepless nights nine months down the line?"

The roundabout phrasing brought a small smile to May's lips. _He never met a situation he couldn't infuse with some sarcasm._ "There's no need to be coy, Phil. She's pregnant."

Phil sighed and set his pen down. "Was it Ward?" he asked, a weariness in his voice.

"Yes. When they were at Providence together." _When I left them alone at Providence, _the back of her mind whispered.

"Did he force her?" Phil asked. "I will cut him down to half rations right now if he hurt her."

_He didn't have to force either of us,_ May thought. The memory of his hands on her made her skin crawl now, but she couldn't say she didn't enjoy it at the time. "No. It happened before she realized he was Hydra. You know they'd been attracted to each other for months."

"I know. He still asks about her every day." Phil thought for a moment. "It's a bit out of character for neither of them to think about being safe, though, isn't it?"

_So many questions. This isn't a case, Phil._ "I'm not a gynecologist, Phil. And no matter what they did or didn't think about, what's done is done."

Phil ran a hand over his face. "You're right. I know. The question now is how to move forward. I'm guessing this trip to California is for an abortion?"

_That's the first time I've heard the word used all day_, May realized. "Yes," she said, watching for his reaction.

He looked sad. That wasn't what she was expecting. There was a long pause. _Is he really going to try to stop her?_ "Listen, Phil, I know you don't approve of this, but Skye can't possibly have this baby now. Even if Ward wasn't the father, this is no life to drag a child into. Besides which, we still don't know what her 0-8-4 status means . . ."

Phil interrupted her. "Calm down, Melinda, I'm not trying to force Skye into anything. I just—don't like this. And I don't just mean abortions. I don't like that I have a member of my team locked in a vault, and I don't like that he managed to seduce and betray two other members on my watch. I don't like that Skye is pregnant with his child and probably scared out of her mind." He grimaced. "I don't like much about the situation we're in, these days. But," he added with a sigh, "The only way out is through."

"The only way out is through," May agreed. It was a line from a training exercise they'd had to run, a million years ago. Learning to withstand torture was deeply unpleasant, as was teaching others to do the same, so there had been a whole bunch of slogans and mantras to help participants get through it.

Phil was rummaging in a desk drawer, pulling out several blank forms. "All right. If you're going to do this, let's do it safely. Here's two leave passes. How many days did you say you'd need?"

"Four would be best. We might be able to squeeze it to three if we have to."

Phil waved away the latter suggestion. "You can have four. If there's any complications I'd much rather have her in an American ER. If anything happens, you know how to get in touch with me for an emergency extension." He signed both passes, then pulled out a requisition form. "I'll fill this out for American cash. Skye can fill in the correct amount once she's spoken to the clinic and the hotel."

May said, "She offered to pay for it herself."

"Nonsense. She's an agent in my command. Tell her to think of it as an employee health plan." He signed that form too. "Is there anything else you'll need? She's free to take her van, of course."

"That about covers it. We'll leave Sunday and try to get back on Wednesday, if that's all right."

"I think we can get along without you for that long," Phil said with a smile. Then he got serious and added, "Just one more thing. I'm not a doctor, nor a woman, but I do know that abortions can be painful, even dangerous . . ."

"They're pretty safe when a doctor does them," May reminded him. "Safer than childbirth, on average."

Phil nodded. "Still, Skye's important to me. Not just as an agent whose help we badly need, but also as a trusted friend. I want you to stay with her, make sure she follows the doctor's advice and doesn't ignore anything that might be a red flag. Bring her home safe and well."

"Understood," May said, unable to suppress a smile. "But do you even have to ask, Phil? You know I care about our team. Like family." _Like the children we never had._


	5. The Drive

**Small disclaimer here: Nothing in this story is intended to support any particular political or moral position. Having an abortion struck me as a realistic choice Skye might make in this situation, but as for what I imagine her thought process might be . . . well, you'll have to read the chapter below. (Please leave reviews, too).**

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><p>Skye called a clinic and made an appointment for Monday under her most convincing alias. She consulted travel sites and user reviews to find a suitably clean and discreet motel not too far away. She packed her bag—just the essentials plus three loose outfits and a plethora of sanitary napkins. She explained the plan to Jemma and accepted a hug and encouragement. Then, on Sunday morning she tossed her bag into the back and climbed into the van she'd once called home. She drove the first two and a half hours, then switched with May and tried to read the book she'd brought along on her tablet.<p>

It was assigned reading, something about wilderness survival tactics specific to the Australian outback, which rather quickly degenerated into a list of every poisonous thing in Australia. Her eyes were swimming before half an hour passed.

She shut off the tablet and looked out the window instead. There wasn't much in the way of scenery to admire. They were passing through a village that had, from the looks of it, seen better days. There were a bunch of children playing in the street, whom May had to slow down and swerve to avoid. Skye found herself tearing up at the sight.

As a teenager she'd wondered what it would be like to be pregnant. She'd had friends who were already mothers at fourteen and she'd listened to all their stories—their child's kicking, the crazy appetite changes, the uncomfortable aspects, and the strange knowledge that they were growing a tiny human inside them. Even some of the girls who were too young to keep their kids had taken a certain pride in the experience, though none of them were as happy as the foster mother she'd had when she was eight. Mrs. Wilson had let Skye lay a hand against her stomach anytime she wanted to feel her future foster sibling moving around. There had been a baby shower, visits from relatives, so much joy and hope surrounding the birth. Skye had stayed with a neighbor while the Wilsons went to the hospital, and the next day she'd been invited to come and hold the precious, tiny daughter.

Of course, Skye had been reassigned once the Wilsons had a child of their own to care for.

Once or twice, when she was hoping to find a family that would keep her, she'd started wishing for a baby she could keep. Now here one was, inside her, growing, and she couldn't keep it. Not that keeping it hadn't crossed her mind, briefly, when she realized that she might be pregnant. _I could finally have a family member, a blood relation, _she had thought. Then she had realized it wouldn't only be her blood relation, but Ward's too. She'd had a sudden image of a little baby with his brown eyes, and felt so sick she wanted to throw something at a wall. And then the decision was made.

Yet even now, as the van reached the outskirts of that crummy little village and accelerated to full speed again, there was a niggling voice at the back of her mind. The voice protested, _it isn't fair to blame your kid for who his father is._

_Life isn't fair,_ she thought bitterly as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

_I tried to do the right thing with Rising Tide, and my closest friend got bought off by the bad guys. I formed a family for the first time, and everything we stood for crumbled to dust eight months later. I fell for a big damn hero with gorgeous eyes, and he was really a Nazi serial killer. And that was just in the last year. _

_Living with all that over your head would be worse than never being born._

The little voice didn't shut up. The tears didn't stop. But the van drove on.


	6. The Procedure

May tried to give Skye a modicum of privacy during the long drive. She didn't waste time trying to chat and carefully didn't look when she noticed Skye quietly weeping. _If I were anyone else, I'd probably feel very awkward in this situation_, she reflected. _Good thing I'm not someone else._ She'd definitely seen much worse.

When they arrived at the motel Skye had made a reservation for, Skye handled the check-in while May surveyed the building for emergency exits and escape routes. It was unlikely, but they could have been recognized or trailed. _Always prepare for the worst,_ May could hear her mother's voice saying.

Their room was the same room one could find in second-rate motels all over the world: sink outside the bathroom, ugly comforters on both of the double beds, TV perched precariously on a piece of furniture not designed to hold TVs. _No one stays at the Waldorf-Astoria when traveling out-of-town to get an abortion,_ May figured, _but it would be nice if the carpet wasn't stained, at least._

Fortunately Skye didn't seem too bothered by her surroundings. She'd lived in a van for months on end, before, showering at friends' houses and leeching Wi-Fi from a diner. Besides, at the moment, a dingy room with a stained carpet exactly matched her mood.

May pulled the comforter off her bed and stuffed it into the closet. She put her duffel bag on one of the luggage racks and eyed the patch of wall that pretended to be a headboard for any tell-tale splotches of bedbug blood. "What time is your appointment tomorrow?" she asked Skye.

"Bright and early, 7AM. I figured it would be best to get it out of the way so I have more time to recover," Skye explained. "You don't have to come with me, of course. I'm sure you'd rather hang out by the pool and pick me up after."

May gave her one of her patented "You know what I'm going to say" stares. "We're wanted criminals. I can't let you go anywhere alone and in a vulnerable state." _Besides which, these places are always surrounded by screaming protesters, and I don't want you to go through that alone._

Skye looked grateful for the offer, but still insisted, "I don't want you to be sitting in the waiting room, bored, for hours."

May held up her tablet. "I never get bored." She picked up the "local information" binder and started leafing through the restaurant lists. "Now, let's get some dinner in you. You'll have to fast tomorrow morning."

Skye felt awkward but could see the subject was closed. She sat next to May and started looking for places to eat.

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><p>Skye woke the next morning to find that May was already up. After she dressed in the loosest clothing she owned, May drove to the clinic and managed to find parking a few blocks away. As they walked back towards the entrance, Skye could see that there were already a handful of people holding pro-life signs. <em>At 7 in the morning? Why do they have to be so damn dedicated to a cause?<em> She started walking more slowly, dreading what they might shout at her.

Their suddenly reduced pace didn't slip by May unnoticed. She'd expected Skye might have second thoughts. She stopped, turned to face the younger agent, and placed her hands on Skye's shoulders. "Look at me. I can see you're nervous. Just tell me, are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do?"

Skye didn't flinch. May gave her credit for that. She said, "No, this isn't what I want. I don't want any of this to be happening. But this is what needs to happen so that I can move on with my life, so I can forget about Ward and finish the work we have to do."

_And it may be illegal for people to force you into it, but you can't outlaw unfortunate circumstances._ "Then you've made your decision. So don't worry about the people outside. They don't know anything about you or have any right to judge the choice you're making. Come on," she said, putting an arm around Skye's shoulders. "Don't look at them. Just talk to me. What's your favorite movie?" Distracting each other with chit-chat, the two women pushed past the shouted insults and made it inside.

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><p><em>So many forms<em>. Skye gave blood, urine, and every tidbit of medical history she could remember to the nurses. There was an ultrasound to confirm the timeline—unnecessary, since Skye hadn't had sex with anyone else except Ward for months. A doctor explained how the procedure worked and that it would probably hurt a bit. He called it _emptying your uterus,_ not even referring to what he'd be removing. He rattled off potential side effects and risks, while Skye nodded a lot. Then a social worker came to ask her a few questions, to make sure no one was forcing her to do this.

"I apologize if it seems intrusive, but we have to ask," she explained with a smile. "Can you tell me a little bit about your reasons for seeking a surgical abortion?"

_Not without blowing my cover_. "I'd rather not."

The social worker pressed on. "Has your partner done anything to pressure you?"

_Time to tell partial truth._ "It's not what he did, it's what he didn't do."

The social worker seemed interested now. "What didn't he do?"

"Tell me that he had a criminal record and was wanted for murder," Skye said in her best deadpan. The nurse looked mildly surprised, but not incredulous. _Maybe she's heard worse stories. No one comes here to abort a child conceived in love and prosperity._

"Has he ever threatened you or physically harmed you?" the social worker asked.

_Well, his friends sicced a brainwashed cyborg on me. And he did threaten to rape me, but only in the hopes I'd get rattled and surrender the bomb I was threatening him with. _"No. And he's locked up now, probably going to be given a life sentence, so he's not my problem anymore."

"One last question," the woman asked, making a few notes with her pen, "Do you feel safe at home?"

_I don't have a home, I have a bunk in a classified location._ "Absolutely. My family is very supportive."

The social worker left and Skye was led into a procedure room and given a sedative. After that, she had trouble thinking about what was happening. She could still feel everything, though.

When the pains started, she forced herself to breathe. _I am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We don't scream. We don't cry. We don't break. I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We don't scream. We don't cry. We don't break. I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Don't scream don't cry don't break._


	7. The Room

**Sorry for the delay, folks. I had trouble getting this chapter to come out right. I could probably niggle at it for another month, but there's nothing to lose by posting it now.**

**Thanks for taking the time to read. Of course we've got nothing but time on our hands now that they've decided to go on hiatus until March!**

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><p>It was more than four hours before Skye emerged. Agent May's instincts kicked in during the wait and she started taking note of the number of women coming and going. She noticed how many did and didn't have wedding rings, which ones had a friend with them, how many were all alone. Without even realizing she was doing it, she quietly examined each woman's body language, seeing discomfort, nervousness, annoyance, anger, fear, and a multitude of other emotions written on various faces. A handful were actually relieved. Most probably didn't realize anyone was looking. None of them knew that even with a moderately interesting book to read and no particular mission ahead of her, Melinda May was still a spy at heart.<p>

As the hours passed, May heard the crowd of protestors outside grow larger and louder. A man sitting near her started trying to make conversation. Where are you from? Who are you waiting for? "My daughter," May answered before burying her nose in her book to discourage further attempts.

She intentionally did not think about the last time she'd been in a place like this. That was decades ago and in another state, another time zone. It was not worth thinking about.

Finally, Skye limped out. Pain and sadness were in her walk, though not in her face. She didn't say a word, just stumbled towards May. "Sit down," May ordered, "I'll get the car." She squeezed Skye's shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting way before hurrying out the door.

They walked back to their room with May's arm under Skye and Skye's arm around May's shoulders. Skye was trying to be tough, but she gratefully accepted the support. Once inside, May lowered Skye onto the bed.

"Do you need the bathroom or anything?" May said. Skye shook her head. "Are you hungry? It's lunchtime." Skye nodded, afraid to try talking at the moment. "I'll order a pizza," May said, remembering how much Skye liked pepperoni. "Lie down for now," she ordered, and paused to pull the blanket over Skye's body before looking for a phone number.

Skye ate a slice of pizza when it arrived, but then hurried to the bathroom and threw it all up. She managed to keep down two breadsticks, a painkiller, a Pepto-Bismol tablet, and some water. _Which is better than nothing, _May reasoned as she stuffed the uneaten pizza into the tiny excuse for a refrigerator. _Try again at dinnertime._

Skye was surprised at the way May was acting. _It's like I'm a sick child, not an agent,_ she thought._ But not in a condescending way_. She quickly decided she had no energy to worry about May's behavior, or for anything that didn't involve coping with these cramps. The pain was much worse than she'd expected.

When her S.O. pulled out a heating pad and an extension cord and started setting them up, she seriously wondered whether clairvoyance was a myth after all.

May saw the confusion in Skye's eyes and explained, "You're not the only one who can use Google. I researched what to expect from your recovery." _Also, this isn't my first rodeo._ Skye just nodded and pressed the heating pad to her abdomen. "Do you want to watch some daytime TV? Take your mind off of things? Or get a nap?" Skye only shrugged. _Total silence is downright eerie coming from her. Oh well, she'll talk when she's ready._ "Let's try the TV, then."

The television somewhat made up for the lack of conversation, but there was precious little on that was worth watching. After all, it was barely 1:30 in the afternoon. May finally settled on a History Channel documentary, something about the populist movement, which seemed suitably neutral as background noise. Then she went back to her book, sparing a glance every few minutes at her patient. At first, Skye was wincing and staring blankly at the screen, but after about a half hour May was happy to see she had fallen asleep.

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><p>When Skye had slept soundly for almost an hour, May risked a trip to the convenience store across the street for Gatorade and crackers. <em>Just in case she can't manage dinner<em>. Upon her return, though, there was a sour smell in the air.

"Did you get sick again?" she asked as she went to Skye's bedside. Skye nodded, her face pale and sweaty. "Sit up," May ordered, reaching out a hand for support. "I brought you a little Gatorade. You can try some crackers to steady your stomach. How's the pain?"

The question was too direct to avoid. Skye spoke for the first time in hours: "Nothing I can't handle."

May nodded. "How about I give you another painkiller, anyway."

"Fine," Skye said, and took the pill. May handed her a Gatorade.

"Sip it slowly," she cautioned. Skye complied. May put a few crackers on a napkin and left it on the bedside table before returning to the room's only chair and to her book.

"Thanks," Skye said suddenly. "For . . . everything you're doing. I know this isn't exactly a fun weekend getaway."

May put the book back down. "This trip is far more unpleasant for you than for me. But you're welcome."

"Yeah," Skye said, staring down at the half-eaten cracker in her hand. "Unpleasant. But I guess I deserve this," she said, her voice breaking. "After all, this is my fault."

Some people would have jumped in to correct or comfort. May, however, knew the value of giving a hurt person silence to fill. So she held her tongue.

Tears were falling on the cracker, now. "I chose this. I chose this after I chose to sleep with Ward even though I knew neither of us had protection. I keep running over and over it in my mind and asking the same questions. Wasn't I old enough to know better? Why couldn't see how suspicious his story was, how I could have let him fool me so completely? How could I have let him con me like that?!" Skye sobbed, but didn't wipe her eyes.

"I slept with him too," May said quietly, "and I'm older than you." _Old enough that protection isn't a major concern. If I were thirty years younger, though, it could be me crying right now._

May continued, "I've literally got decades of experience in fooling people professionally, but he still fooled me." She stood up and grabbed a few tissues from the vanity. "He fooled all of us. We all trusted him. That was not your fault." When Skye didn't move to take the tissues from her hand, she sat on the bed next to her, put an arm around her shoulders, and wiped her protégé's tears away herself.

Skye gulped and said, "But it's still my fault that I killed my baby."

_Damn Ward to hell twice. _"You know," May said, "Three out of ten American women terminate a pregnancy at some point. Zero American men ever do. Yet every single unexpected pregnancy started with a man in the room. If you ask me, having to make this decision wasn't your fault. Or at least, not yours alone. Ward made all his choices, every day since he was fifteen, and he always chose the wrong things. He chose to seduce you when he knew there was no way you two could stay together, and that took away your chance to choose."

Skye grabbed another tissue and blew her nose loudly. "I still wish I could've chosen another way."

_Live long enough, and you'll find yourself wishing that about a lot of things. I could tell you stories about regrets that would curl your hair._ May shifted, trying to support Skye without invading her space too much. "Phil told me something once that's helped me get through a lot of regret," she said, pushing away the wave of emotions this quote always inspired in her. "He said, 'You can't undo what's been done. That will be with you forever. But clinging to the person you thought you could be, that's hell.' Skye, you're never going to forget what happened today. You may find yourself thinking about it months, even years down the line. Wondering if you could have done something different, whether there was any hope of raising your child, what he or she would have looked like, been like . . ." A voice echoed in her mind, _If I'd had him, I'd be a grandmother by now_. She shrugged that memory away. "But you're going to find a way to live with your new reality, with this part of your story. Trust me."

Skye looked at her mentor for a long minute. _That's probably the most she's ever said to me at one time._ Feeling childish and weak, she asked, "Will I really?"

May gave her a slight squeeze. "You will."


	8. The Vault

**For those of you who wanted to see Ward's reaction, it's coming in this chapter and the next. I almost didn't include it at all since this is more Skye's story, but then inspiration struck. Enjoy.**

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><p>Back at the Playground, Phil Coulson set aside his finished lunch and sighed. He had the beginnings of a stress headache, and was not looking forward to his daily trek to Vault D. Ward's larynx had healed well and he was perfectly capable of speech, but over the weeks he'd maintained a silence so stubborn that it gave the term "silent as the grave" new meanings. Oh, he asked plenty of questions every day. But they were all delivered with a scoff, a breezy tone that seemed to say <em>I don't really care if you answer.<em> Although Coulson never answered, Ward never got more anxious, never seemed desperate for news. Threats of violence didn't work—no surprise, since Ward was such a well-trained man—and offers to trade creature comforts for information had gone unacknowledged. Coulson had even tried leaving Ward to stew in his own juices for days on end, but it hadn't made the prisoner any more eager to hear his own voice. For now, therefore, Coulson had resolved to continue paying Ward daily visits and trying to goad him into responding to something—anything. So it was that around 2:30, he pushed back from his desk and steeled his nerves for the trip downstairs.

Today, though, he had some fresh ammunition. He'd had May talk the matter over with Skye, and she'd agreed to let him offer Ward some information if it could tempt him to be more forthcoming. This new bargaining chip helped propel Coulson down the stairs.

Descending into the vault, he took his usual chair and tapped the button to make the cell's door transparent. He was greeted by the sight of Ward, sitting on his bed, clearly waiting for him. "Afternoon," he said.

"How's Fitz? Can I see Skye?" Ward asked evenly.

"You keep asking the same things even though you know I won't answer," Coulson replied, "Let's cut to the chase. You answer three of my questions, and I'll tell you how Skye has been these last two months."

A brief look of surprise flickered over Ward's face. _Good, he bought it. He thinks I'm giving in._

Ward's eyes narrowed. "I'm not falling for the promise of vague information. You have to agree to actually answer at least three of my questions about her."

Coulson raised an eyebrow at him. "You overestimate your negotiating power, Ward. I'll give you two choices. Either you answer my questions, I give you some information, and you get to ask one question in return, or I cut you down to half rations this week for wasting my time."

From the way Ward's posture tensed up, Coulson knew he'd struck a nerve. Ward had been trying to stay in shape while locked up. Coulson had seen him on the security feed, exercising for hours. It wasn't just to keep busy, he suspected, but also in preparation for a possible escape. The prospect of being half-starved would be especially unpleasant to that kind of prisoner.

"Fine," Ward said, not entirely keeping the fear out of his voice. "I'll bite."

"I thought you might," Coulson said with a small, knowing smile. "First question. How and when did John Garrett recruit you to be part of Hydra?"

Ward glared at Coulson and said, "He broke me out of juvenile hall when I was fifteen. Told me he represented a secret organization looking for recruits. I didn't know it was Hydra until years later, but by then I owed him my life."

Coulson jotted down a few notes. They'd been able to probe some of the blanks in Ward's file, so this was easily verified. He wanted some evidence of cooperation before he considered making these kinds of trades a regular arrangement. "Second question. List the exact locations of at least two Hydra safe houses."

Ward relaxed slightly and rattled off two addresses—one in Paris, one in Amman. Again, the information was easily verified, and a good way to start wedging the door open.

"You're doing well so far," Coulson said, without any warmth in his voice. "Third. How many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents have you killed on Hydra's orders?"

Ward looked at his hands for a few long moments, his features unreadable. Coulson wondered whether it was guilt, shame, or an inability to remember that accounted for the delay. "Need I remind you that there's no use lying or trying to evade the question?" he prompted.

Ward sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I'm not trying to evade. I'm trying to remember. It was at least 10. Now tell me about Skye."

Coulson chose his words carefully. "Skye has continued her training to become a field agent. But she is currently on medical leave."

For once, Ward didn't censor his reactions. He looked genuinely, thoroughly startled. "Is she all right?"

_That's your one question. I bet it wasn't the one you wanted to ask, _Coulson thought triumphantly. "She's having an operation."

Ward stood up. "Why? What's wrong? Is she going to be all right?" Coulson didn't respond. _Refusing to answer is not as much fun from the asker's perspective, is it?_ He'd come prepared to dole out just enough information to make Ward stew over it all night. _Maybe by tomorrow, he'll be ready to spill something more substantive._

Ward continued. "Is Skye sick? Is it serious?"

_The seeds are sown. Give them a little water . . . _"You know," he said genially, "I'm touched by your concern for Skye's well-being. And fairly surprised, too, considering how little regard you had for her when you kidnapped her and tried to force her to betray S.H.I.E.L.D."

He continued, the genial act slowly fading out. "I have to say, Ward, your priorities seem very inconsistent. I can almost understand how a dedicated Hydra member like yourself would be willing to kill his friends, his teammates, but I can't imagine how you justified what you did to Skye at the Playground." He watched Ward for signs of comprehension, but saw only worry and frustration, with a hint of anger.

Coulson wanted to shout: _You're not the one who has a right to be angry._ He settled for flinging words through the barrier. "Garrett didn't order you to seduce Skye, did he? You added that flourish all by yourself, to satisfy your own sick need to control others."

Ward looked truly furious now. "That's not what happened. It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. Just tell me Skye's all right!"

_I already answered one question! You don't get to ask any more today. _"That is what happened," Coulson insisted, "That is exactly what happened. You needed information from Skye, fine. But it was unnecessary for you to lure her to bed, and there was absolutely no reason to do that when you knew full well it was the last time you'd ever be on speaking terms with her. And on top of everything, you didn't even have the decency to find a condom first! You were trying to control her. You were trying to ruin her life. So don't try to deny that."

With that, the director gathered up the papers he'd come in with. Realization dawned on Ward's face and he spoke frantically. "Wait! Don't go. Is Skye pregnant? Is that what this is about? Is she all right? Where is she? Can I see her?" he asked with increasing desperation.

Ward's shouts were cut off by the soundproofed force field as Coulson climbed the stairs. _I've got your attention now, don't I? Let's see how talkative you feel after 24 hours of worrying yourself sick. _The prisoner didn't want extra food or blankets, books, or company; he wanted news of his crush. He'd give up intelligence for scraps of knowledge. Very well. Two could play at that game, and Coulson would bet his life on himself.


	9. Ward

**Thanks to everyone who has been following this story and adding it to their favorites.**

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><p>The next day, Coulson found Ward perched on the edge of his bunk, hands clasped, body tense. "Afternoon," he said in his breeziest tone. "Did you have a pleasant night?"<p>

"You don't give a damn how my night was. Just get on with it. Three questions for one, same as yesterday," Ward snapped.

_That's the right attitude. Good boy. _"Fine. First, I want you to look at this list of names, and tell me which ones you know are Hydra loyalists." He held the list up to the force field, and Ward drew closer to read it.

He wasn't angry or defiant right now. He looked . . . eager to please? _We could probably get a psychiatrist in here to tell us that he went straight from an abusive home to Hydra, and is more comfortable with manipulative authority figures than conciliatory ones. But maybe we don't need one._

"I don't recognize most of the names," Ward finally said. Coulson thought he could almost hear a note of disappointment in his voice, but maybe not. "Anyway, I can tell you that these three at the bottom were most likely loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. Garrett told me that their S.O. was against us—I mean, against Hydra."

_Better than nothing._ "All right," Coulson said as he took the paper away. "You're doing fine so far. Now, prior to joining my team, what was the last mission you completed on Hydra's behalf?"

Ward listed an operation code, adding, "I reported that the artifact in question was destroyed in the explosion, but actually I smuggled it back to base and passed it to the science division."

Coulson took down the number. _Something seems off about that._ "If Hydra had loyalists in the science division to begin with, why couldn't you just bring the artifact back and let them study it in the open?"

Ward shrugged. "I had my orders. I would guess that it was probably headed for the Slingshot, and someone didn't want it to be secretly sealed up in the Fridge before it could be used."

_Hydra works in mysterious ways. But then again, so did S.H.I.E.L.D. We still do. _"All right," Coulson said, "you've earned one quest-"

"Is Skye pregnant?" Ward asked, coming so close to the barrier that the boundary lines lit up.

Coulson said, "Not anymore. The abortion was yesterday."

He only briefly noticed the look of shock on Ward's face before switching the barrier opaque.

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><p>When he was alone again, Grant Ward stared at the blank gray wall before him. He saw Skye's face, all full of sympathy and love and trust, like she had looked when they first kissed. A flood of grief and regret and anger almost knocked him down.<p>

He whirled away and punched one of the solid walls. His knuckles split and the whole hand stung, but he ignored it. It wasn't like he'd never been in pain before. Skye's face danced before his eyes, twisting into the anger and fear he saw when she wouldn't stop hitting him, the disgust when he tried to comfort her. Her voice echoed in his mind. _Lying bastard. Son of a bitch. Serial killer. Nazi._ She wasn't wrong, except about that last one. _Not that it matters, now._ He punched the wall a few more times.

He realized he was crying and wiped his nose on his sleeve. _Man up. You knew the two of you weren't going to live happily ever after._ But it was one thing to know that the woman he loved was furious with him, and another to hear that she'd murdered his child as punishment.

_It didn't have to be this way. If I wasn't trapped in this cell I could've made her see reason. Why didn't she at least come and tell me she was pregnant?_

_Because the last time you saw her you threatened to rape her, you brute._ That was Garrett's voice in his head again, which he didn't bother to try to push out. _You can't abuse a woman and then expect her to come back, because she won't come. Which you'd know if you had the slightest idea about anything, idiot._

Ward sank to the floor, not bothering to wipe away the tears blinding him. _I'd rather not stare at blankness right now, anyway. _Garrett's disembodied voice was right. After everything that had happened, Skye wasn't going to come back to him on her own. _You'd have to do something truly spectacular to get back on the same side._ He didn't have any ideas just now, though. He couldn't stop sobbing, couldn't get the image of Skye's horrified face out of his head, couldn't resist the urge to smack the concrete floor with his bruised and bleeding hands.

He couldn't say how long it was before the thought came to him, but once it was there it cycled and swirled through his mind like a mantra. _You did this. You did this. It's your fault your child is dead._ When everyone else had left Providence and he'd murdered Eric, he'd known he had less than eighteen hours left to get the decryption from Skye and then leave her forever. _All I wanted was a few more hours of her trusting me, loving me. Was that too much to ask?_

Garrett answered. _Apparently, yes, yes it was. You should have known better than to take it that far. Don't you even know where babies come from?_

_I did this. I did this. It's my fault my child's dead._

Ward didn't know how long he sat hunched on the unforgiving floor, tears dripping everywhere. It felt like hours. His brain tormented him with memories of how Skye felt in his arms. _I wouldn't have been a good father anyway. There's no point in imagining I could've been. I did this. It's my fault._

Eventually he got off the floor, washed his face, ate the rations that had been dropped off during his meltdown, and laid down on the bunk.

All night long he dreamt of a baby with big brown eyes, its skin soft and dark like its mother's. He heard it crying and could feel its warm weight in his arms, cradled against his chest. All night Skye burst into a hundred different rooms, gun in her hand, loathing in her eyes, and shot at him and his child.

By the morning, he had made his decision.

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><p><strong>I almost didn't include this chapter, but in the end it was just too juicy to exclude. Ward's gotten much more interesting since he turned out to be a crazy traitor who's obsessed with Skye. <strong>Please let me know what you think in the reviews. <strong>**

**Fun fact: the second half of this chapter was influenced by verse 3 of John Denver's song "Prisoners." It's a great song so you should all check it out.**


	10. The Return

**Happy 2015, readers! The next chapter will be our last. Thank you for following/favorite-ing/reviewing.**

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><p>May and Skye pulled into the Playground's garage midafternoon on Wednesday. A few agents happened to be around, so Skye forced herself not to look awkward or pained while she climbed down from the van.<p>

Trip called out across the cavernous space, "Hey Skye! Are you feeling better?"

_Say it louder, they might not have heard you in Canada. _"Getting there!" she answered brightly, pushing her mouth into a smile.

May caught her eye, and Skye knew, _she'd give me her arm and help me back to my bunk if I asked._ But she couldn't ask, in front of everyone. She had to walk back alone, and try not to show any pain.

It was a short walk, but it felt like miles.

As she crawled into bed, still fully dressed, unable to care, she thought about something May had said the previous night. As they dined on reheated pizza, she had asked her mentor, "Did you ever think about having kids?"

May's features had given nothing away as she replied, "It stopped being an option for me very early on."

Skye still wasn't sure what May had meant by that.

Half an hour later, Simmons stopped by with sandwiches. "I heard from Trip you guys were back—wasn't sure if you stopped for food—how are you feeling?" The bubbly scientist filled her in on everything that Skye had missed over the last few days. No major operations, just new intel and new experiments and Fitz's incremental progress with his occupational therapy, but Skye was grateful for the update.

After a while Simmons' forced cheer began to lose steam and she hugged her friend, whispering, "I am so, so sorry this happened to you."

_Don't worry about it,_ Skye tried to say, but it came out as, "I am too."

After Simmons left, Skye forced herself through a hot shower. She discreetly limped to the kitchen and retrieved a can of ginger ale and some cookies, figuring she deserved a little treat, then retreated to watch some bad TV on her laptop.

Halfway through the first sitcom she pulled up, however, there was another knock at the door. _Dammit, there is never any privacy in this base._ "It's open," she sighed.

Director Coulson stepped in. "Welcome back, Skye."

_That's not who I expected to see. _"Phil Coulson, as I live and breathe," she said, trying to keep things light, "Is medical leave what it takes to get a face-to-face with you these days?"

Phil smiled, a little tensely. "May told me you were home. We'll keep you off field duty for two weeks to be safe and she's going to work you back up to speed in training. But, I came to see how you were doing."

_How do you think I'm doing?_ Skye sat up on the edge of the bed and moved her duffel bag off of the desk chair. "Have a seat. I'm doing . . . ok, I guess? I mean, I'm not jumping for joy."

Phil sat down. "You couldn't be expected to. I've known other agents . . . other women in your position, and none of them came out of it saying 'that was easy' or even 'that was the best decision I've ever made.' No matter what the circumstances. So you don't have to be afraid to tell me honestly, how are you doing?"

He was using his gentle interrogation voice. _Basically, if I don't open up to him, he'll coax me open anyway._ With a sigh, she admitted, "This has been the single most embarrassing, painful, upsetting experience of my entire crazy life." Her voice didn't break, but it very much wanted to. She looked down at her hands to avoid Phil's eyes.

Then one of his hands came into sight, and he lifted her chin. "You don't have to hide from me, Skye. You never do. Understood?" She nodded. "Listen to me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't protect you from Ward."

Skye made a shocked noise and spluttered, "That wasn't your job! This wasn't your fault, DC, I'm old enough to know better . . ."

Coulson interrupted, "S.H.I.E.L.D. failed the world, and it failed you, when it let Hydra slip through the cracks all these years. Ward got into our ranks and onto my team by slipping past every safety mechanism we should have been more careful about. You, Skye . . . you were an innocent bystander until I brought Ward to your, er, car door and dragged you away. Don't beat yourself up because you were old enough to know better. I'm an agent with three decades of experience. So I should've been the one to catch the inconsistencies in Ward's and Garrett's stories. I should've protected you from them, from him. This was never your fault."

The outpouring of self-recrimination was shocking, touching, and confusing all at once. "Well," Skye managed to say, "You didn't tell me to go to bed with him. That part was my fault."

Phil looked uncertain, then amused. He shrugged. "I guess we can split the blame for that part." To both agents' surprise, they each smiled a little bit.

Skye decided to ask the inevitable question. "Did you actually end up telling him?"

His smile faded. "I did, yes."

_Deep breath. _"How did he take it?" _Do I even want to know?_

Coulson considered how to answer for a long moment. Having seen the security tapes, he was honestly surprised by the violence of Ward's reaction, but didn't think Skye needed to hear the gory details.

"He was sad," he finally said.

Skye's eyebrows rose. "Sad?" she exclaimed, "What the hell right does he have to be sad?" _I'm the one who had to abort my child!_

The director laid a hand on her arm. "Concepts like 'right' and 'reasonable' haven't entered into Ward's thinking for a long time, if they ever did. I won't defend his reaction to you. All I can say is, he was sad. Maybe he's just upset he lost control over this situation. Maybe he's got some sort of trigger associated with abortion. Maybe in some twisted way he still cares what happens to you and feels guilty about what he did. I'm not a shrink. All I can tell you is how he reacted."

Skye nodded. _And I shouldn't ask questions I don't want to hear the answer to. _"Right. Of course. I shouldn't have snapped."

"It's fine. We all slip up on the emotional control front sometimes." Coulson's phone beeped in his pocket, and he glanced at the message. He quickly said, "Sorry, Skye, duty calls. We won't need you for this one, so you get some rest. Let me know if you need anything. OK?"

"OK," Skye agreed, and the director left.

Sitting in her bed, Skye couldn't help but think about Ward. She'd asked herself a million times why she didn't see his betrayal coming, but this time she found herself remembering what he was like just before it happened. How tender, how insecure, how sweet and vulnerable he had seemed in their few short hours spent as lovers. Without realizing she was doing it, she pictured what their baby's big brown eyes would've looked like.

She blinked back tears. _Enough crying over this. It's time to move on._


	11. Epilogue

**Hello readers! Here we are at the end of the second longest fic I've ever actually finished. Thank you for your follows and favorites of the story and of me. I don't know what my next work will be, but I have brainstorms for Sherlock, Gilmore Girls, Supernatural, and The Hunger Games. If you have an opinion/are intrigued (confused?), please do PM me.**

**Please also review this story and let me know what you liked/didn't like.**

**Trigger warning: self-harm.**

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><p>Prompted by May's urgent text, Coulson hurried to the medical wing. "What's his status?"<p>

She turned around at the sound of his voice. "He's stabilizing. Koenig caught a glimpse of the security feed before he lost too much blood. They've stitched him up and have him sedated and restrained."

Coulson peeked through the observation panel on the door. Grant Ward looked pale and small, two words Phil Coulson would've never expected to apply to his former specialist. _How the hell did this happen?_

"We haven't given him knives, or pens, he's been eating with plastic forks. Where did he find something sharp enough to cut flesh?" he asked.

May calmly said, "He bit through the thread and removed the button from his pants, then broke it."

That one gave Phil pause. "He slit his wrists with a plastic button?"

"Yes," May answered, and Phil noticed the slight tension in her arms, the tightening of her jaw that meant she, too, was disturbed by all this.

"That's . . . it took effort," Phil said, still struggling to grasp the idea. May didn't respond, she just gave Phil her "tell me something I don't know" look.

"Did he leave a note? Did he say anything about a reason?" Phil asked with a sinking feeling.

"No. But then he isn't allowed pens and we don't leave pencils in the cell with him. As for his reasons," May said, sounding almost impatient with the subject, "You can take your pick. He's a prisoner of the people he betrayed, the man he devoted his life to is dead, he was never emotionally stable to begin with . . ."

_And I told him yesterday that his child was dead._ "All that's been going on for weeks already. He wasn't suicidal until I told him that Skye had aborted his baby."

May did wonder, _can that really matter to a man like him?_ But she didn't ask that aloud. It was a rookie's question, not the question of a woman who'd been nose-to-nose with the weird and terrifying for thirty years. She was old enough to know that even evil men could feel love, especially the wild, possessive love that could drive one to suicide. _Old enough to know, but maybe not old enough to believe._

Phil was talking again. "We can't help that he couldn't handle bad news. Once he's alert, have him evaluated and see if there's any medication we can give him. Don't move him back to his cell until the doctors are sure he's not at risk for trying again, is that clear?"

"Yes," May quickly answered.

"That's all we can do, then," Phil said. "Keep this news in the medical wing. We can trust Koenig to scrub the vault down discreetly. No one on the team finds out. Especially not Skye. Ward has food poisoning, and he's going back to Vault D as soon as he's over it. Understood?"

"I understand," May said. "I'll tell Koenig."

"Good," he said with a nod. "If you need me, I'm in my office." He turned and left May alone in the hallway.

May spared a glance through the glass for her former lover and teammate. His eyes were open, but he didn't seem to focus on anything or know where he was. _Don't spare him any sympathy,_ she warned herself. _Those hands tied to the bed once tried to garrote you. The dead child he's grieving is the one he abandoned within hours of its conception. So screw him._

She hardened her heart against him, and turned away from the window.

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><p>On the other side of the glass, Grant Ward struggled to take in his surroundings. His mind was still repeating, <em>my child is dead and that's my fault. I should die for that.<em>

_I killed myself. I'm not dead. It didn't work._

_Better luck next time._


End file.
